The Radley
by HalebFic
Summary: After a breakup, Hanna holes up at her mother's hotel, but her misery vacation is about to take a heartbreaking turn when her ex is getting married to someone he barely knows in the very same hotel. Now the only thing that can save her is the hotel's IT guy who offers to pose as her boyfriend for a week.
1. Monday

**MONDAY**

Silence is deafening. That's the only thought I can muster as I sit by the window in the empty apartment, watching the movers pack up the last of my belongings in a shabby cargo truck. Around me the walls echo every tiny sound I make, the drumming of fingers against the window sill, water running in the pipes, an old ceiling fan that creaks with every turn. All of it sounds so vivid now that there's no one to share it with.

I thought six months would seem like an eternity and I would have plenty of time to get over him. But I feel as empty as ever. After all, we've been together since college. I thought I was going to marry him. Everyone did. So when my boyfriend decided out of the blue that we weren't right for each other my whole world fell apart. I buried myself in work, pretending I was okay, and patiently waited out the end of my lease, paying double what I can afford, before packing up my life into neat little boxes.

And that's how I ended up here, crying into my shirt sleeve and reminiscing on a lie. That's what it was after all. Seven years of my life down the toilet. Every memory, obstacle, and rite of passage in my life is tainted by his presence. I fucking hate him.

"Honey!'

I jerk my head up at the sound of my mom's voice. Even in my darkest moment, the mere thought of her is a comfort. I wipe the tears on the hem of my shirt and inhale sharply to give the appearance I'm not entirely falling apart. Not that I can ever get something passed Ashley Marin.

"Hey Mom," I say, opening the door.

"Hanna," her voice is soft and comforting and it takes everything in me not to implode all over again.

She takes me into her arms, silencing my cries as she rubs soothing circles along my shoulders. Her voice murmurs soft words in my ear and I slowly feel the worries fall away. After all the tears, I really just needed to be held by the only person who's ever truly loved me.

"You ready?" she asks after a long while.

"Yeah," I reply softly. "Let me grab my bags."

My mom hushes me and points to the car before grabbing the bags herself. I sit down in the front seat feeling very small. It's been a long time since I sat in the passenger seat, twiddling my thumbs and sinking back in the lumpy seat. I watch as my mom pops the trunk and lugs the two suitcases in the back before getting in next to me.

It's a long drive back to Rosewood and it feels foreign as we drive past the once familiar streets. Neither of us says much, mostly just listening to the radio playing in the background. The whole time I replay our relationship, wondering when he decided he was just sick of us...sick of me.

I don't even remember falling asleep when I wake up as we pull in front of the hotel my mom manages. It's a majestic building with an art deco exterior and a regal wrought iron gate guarding the entrance. It would be beautiful except that I will always remember it as a sanitarium. There's no doubt in my mind it's haunted and I think that's the appeal for a lot of the guests. I still don't understand how my mom spends every day here.

"What are we doing?" I ask sleepily.

"I put the house on the market," she explains. "We're staying here for now."

I'm so shocked I can't even muster a response. I thought I was coming home and now I'm trapped in a mad house with my mother and about a hundred ghost hunters. Not to mention I'm so single it hurts. But my exhaustion outweighs my anger and nothing can get between me and a freshly made bed. So we grab the bags from the trunk and my mom takes me up to the top floor and hands me a key to the corner suite.

"I gave you the bigger room," she says kindly. "I'm just on the other side of the adjoining door. Try not to go overboard charging stuff to the room, okay?"

"Thanks Mom," I say sincerely.

She hugs me tightly, pressing a soft kiss into my hair. I'm exhausted from crying so much, but mainly from the realization that I haven't been happy for the last year. It's more than just the breakup. It slowly sets in that neither of us was making an effort toward the end. We got complacent and I guess I took him for granted when I started working more and more. We both did. By the end we barely spoke to each other and I can't even remember the last time we had sex. I guess we'd become more like roommates than lovers. But I never thought he'd just leave me.

"You should get some sleep," my mom says, gently guiding me into the room.

It's a corner suite with a balcony off the small sitting room. Light pours in through the sheer lilac curtains illuminating the sleek, modern furnishings. I crawl into the bed, diving deep beneath the covers, while my mom starts unpacking my bags. My legs curl up against my chest and I watch idly as my mom hangs everything up in the closet. Eventually sleep takes over and I wake up contorted with a crick in my neck.

The next few days are unbearably silent. My mom spends most of her time running around the hotel attending to the guests and I stay cooped up in the room for fear of running into someone from high school. It was hard enough switching my profile to "single" on social media. I don't need to encounter the sympathy messages in person.

Most days I order in room service, which I barely eat, and sit at the desk with my laptop pretending everything is totally fine. Work is a welcome distraction and they have been so supportive of allowing me to move to back to Rosewood and work from home. And luckily the calls and emails roll in at all hours to keep me from thinking too much about the terrible slump I'm in. Until finally the day comes and my mom knocks on the door with a home cooked meal.

"How'd you manage that?" I ask.

"Asked nicely," she tells me. "And I let the kitchen have extra long smoke breaks."

I cross my arms over my chest, eyeing her suspiciously as she steps inside and goes straight for the plush sofa near the window. She places the porcelain dish on the coffee table, steam rising through the holes in the slatted lid. The scent is intoxicating, especially compared to the half eaten plate of room service next to the bed. But even though my mom makes amazing food, she never cooks unless it's to break the bad news.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

"Nothing's wrong," she says with a smile. "It's actually good news this time. Now sit."

I begrudgingly sit down opposite her as she loads up two plates with roasted vegetables and soft, pink salmon dripping with lemon. The first bite tastes like heaven. It's the perfect food to coax me out of my misery and it sure beats the limp salads and grilled cheese I've been living off of.

"We're building a new hotel," my mom says calmly. "I have to oversee things there for a couple weeks."

"Okay," I breathe.

"Hanna," she says with a sigh, "promise me you'll live this room at some point? Maybe call your old friends and go out for a drink...or many? Make some bad decisions."

"I can't believe my own mother is encouraging bad decisions," I say, rolling my eyes.

"Well, Hanna," her mom voice shines through, "it's a hell of a lot better than hiding out here."

"Fine," I reply. "I will put on clothes and go outside...once a week."

"I'll take it," she says triumphantly. "Don't lie to me. I can see everything on the cameras."

"You wouldn't," I retort, mouth dropping open wide.

"Don't test me," she teases. "Now finish your veggies."

I stifle a laugh as I finish eating and my mom shoots a quick wink. She's pulling out the tough love but we both know she really just wants me to be happy. If only I could muster up the energy to feel the same. But a home cooked dinner is a start and I practically lick the plate clean before she cleans up and puts everything away, saving the leftovers in a container for me.

"You'll be good when I'm gone?" she asks before leaving.

"Angelic," I promise.

"Good girl," she says, kissing my forehead.

She leaves first thing in the morning. The sound of her door locking shut echoes through the hall, waking me up at the break of dawn. I watch the sun rise, flooding the room with light, and when I can no longer stand it anymore I finally wrench myself from bed. For the first time I take a shower and wash my hair, relishing the hot water that rolls down my back finally putting to use the luxurious boutique bath products. By the time I turn the water off, my fingers are pruney and the shower is coated in a thin film of bubbles.

I wrap myself up in a plush towel and spend nearly an hour deciding on an outfit before I pick a slinky gold dress to wear under a blue blazer. It almost looks like something from my mom's closet so I channel her with some nude pumps, the kind with red patent soles. Making do with the few cosmetics I packed, I fix my face up and sweep my hair into an intricate braid so it dries wavy.

When I finally muster up the courage to face the world, I cling to my sketchbook as I head out into the lobby. My first thought is coffee, rich, freshly ground and plenty of it. But the Brew is not an option, too many memories. Instead I try a new place. It's a bakery with cases full of pastry and the scent of burnt sugar in the air. I order a vanilla latte and a savory croissant that's reminiscent of the week I spent in Paris with the man I thought I was going to marry. Suddenly it tastes like dirt and I spit it out in the nearest trash can.

Feeling disillusioned by reality, I choke down the coffee before tossing the empty cup. My first instinct is to head back to The Radley and crawl back into bed, but I make a pit stop down our old street. The house still sits behind a white picket fence, the red door pops against the simple paint job. The for sale sign looks like a foreign entity propped up in the front yard.

It makes sense to sell. It's just my mom on her own now and most of the time she's at the hotel anyway. But it feels odd knowing another family will be living there, replacing my memories with theirs.

I pull myself away from the house before I do something irrational and head back to the hotel. My sketchbook still glued to my hand as I step into the busy lobby. A large tour group seems to be gathering near the elevators and a frantic looking event planner knocks into me while I'm distracted. The book goes flying from my hands only to end up at the feet of a dark-haired stranger.

He tucks the hard drive he's holding into his pocket and smirks as he picks it up off the ground. I catch his eye before he starts snooping through my designs and snap at him to hand it over.

"Thanks," I say curtly, "I'll be taking that back now."

"Not so fast," he says. "How do I know it's yours?"

"It literally just fell out of my hands two seconds ago," I snap at him. "Besides, who's trying to steal designs?"

"They're not bad," he says, skimming the pages. "This could be worth millions. What's it worth to you?'

"About six bucks," I retort. "Can I have it back now?"

"You're uh...Hanna Marin?" he asks, reading the inscription on the front cover.

"That's me," I say, exhausted.

"Marin?" he asks again. "Like Ashley Marin?"

"You know my mom?" I ask confused.

His eyes narrow and he scans me up and down, suddenly making me feel extremely self-conscious. By then I realize, I don't care much about how he knows my mom or what he's doing here. Finally I yank the book out of his hands and whip around, ready to make a grand exit. Only my confidence comes crashing down at the sight of the hotel's wedding venue. A yelp escapes my lips and I quickly duck behind the nearest pillar.

I chance another look in that direction and my deepest fears are confirmed. Jordan Fucking Hobart. The same man who wasted nearly a decade of my life with his charming Australian accent and his perfectly coiffed hair only to shatter my heart in a million pieces. There he is, standing next to a life size engagement portrait of himself with his arms around a pretty brunette. I want to slap him across his beautiful fucking face.

"You alright, Princess?"

My head snaps in the other direction and I find the sketchbook snatcher towering over me. He cocks a smile and reaches a hand down to help me up but I scoff in his direction. Dusting myself off, I get back on my feet and glance at his silver plated name tag.

"Look... _Caleb_ ," I snap. "Not that it's any of your business, but the man I'm in love with is standing over there talking to a wedding planner so he can marry someone else. Happy? Now why don't you just get back to whatever it is you do here?"

"O _kay_ ," he says, his voice dripping with condescension.

Except it's not okay. Nothing is okay right now. My ex-boyfriend is about to get married to someone he barely knows and I'm stuck there because I live in a fucking hotel right now. None of that is okay. And it's made even worse when he notices me, locking eyes from across the room before he breaks into a smile.

"Hanna?" he calls out. I can feel my face growing redder with every step he takes toward me until he's standing so close I can feel his eyes boring into me. "Hanna, what are you doing here?"

"What am _I_ doing here?" I say suspiciously. "This is my mom's hotel. What are _you_ doing here?"

"I'm getting married," he says softly. "I didn't expect to see you here though. You always said you hated this place."

"I'm renovating my condo," I say, lying through my teeth, "and I get free rooms here so...it just made sense."

He's about to say something else, no doubt poking holes in my lie, when Caleb comes strolling over with a goofy smile on his face. His hand falls at the small of my back and he laughs heartily as if the mere sight of me is hilarious.

"Babe, where did you run off to?" Caleb says with a laugh. He turns to Jordan. "I swear, I can never keep track of her. Hanna, sweetie."

I practically gag at his last pet name but swallow my pride and loop my hand around his waist as Jordan stares at us confused.

"You're...this is...the two of you?"

"Oh my manners!" I say quickly. "Jordan, this is Caleb. He...uh...works here with my mom…"

"I'm her boyfriend," Caleb cuts in, extending a hand. "Caleb Rivers."

"Uh Jordan," comes the reply. "Jordan Hobart."

"Nice to meet you," Caleb responds. "I hate to cut this short, but we better get going. We have to meet…"

"The decorator," I chime in quickly. "Better go!"

I push Caleb into the nearest hallways without a glance back at Jordan who must be dumbfounded, but nowhere near as confused as when I saw him in the lobby of my mother's hotel on the verge of getting married. I've nearly forgotten about the man I'm dragging by the arm.

"Are we gonna talk about that?" Caleb finally asks when we're safely in the next room.

"Uh, sure," I snap. "What the fuck was that? You came out of nowhere and now you're my _boyfriend_?"

"You didn't seem to hate it when you were flaunting me in front of you ex," he teases.

"Well, you started it," I say quickly. "I couldn't just say you're a liar. He'd know something's up."

"Really?" Caleb scoffs. "I thought I was saving you back there."

"I didn't need your help!" I snap at him.

"Okay then, message heard," he replies. "I'll keep my distance."

"No!" I say quickly. "You started this. Now we have to pretend to be together. At least whenever Jordan is-"

I stop short as Caleb's lips come crashing down on mine. His hand slides to the back of my head as I flail about in his arms, desperate to be set free. But then he snakes an arm around my waist and I brace my hands against his shoulders only to sink in the kiss. I hate myself for enjoying the way his lips dance across mine, tongue flicking across my teeth and then just when I think he's not all bad, he pulls away abruptly.

"Sorry," he says quickly. "Thought I saw Jordan walk by."

"Don't ever do that again," I snap at him before turning on my heel.

* * *

 _AN: I know the beginning starts a little slow but I promise it speeds up after this. Thanks for reading! I hope you're enjoying Haleb Week :)_


	2. Tuesday

**TUESDAY**

It had to be a nightmare. There's no way in hell that the only man I've ever loved has already moved on, already fallen in love with someone else, already getting fucking married. That's insane and it's definitely not happening in my own mother's hotel. But just in case, I don't plan to venture out of my hotel room. Everything I need is here and anything I don't have can be solved with a quick call down to the concierge.

Eventually I tear myself from the bed and sweep my hair up into a ponytail. I catch a glimpse of myself in the bathroom mirror and look down at the cotton t-shirt I've been sleeping in. An old college shirt. The screen printed university logo is so faded and worn I can barely make it out. But it's definitely Jordan's. I rip the damn thing off my body like it's on fire.

We spent the last seven years together. Everything I own reminds me of him. In fact, I can't even remember a time before I knew him, before I loved him. I open the door to the adjoining room, knowing full well my mom keeps her side unlocked. My clothes land in a heap on her floor before I raid her closet. Of course, everything she owns requires at least two layers of spandex so I settle on the robe hanging behind the bathroom door.

Feeling utterly defeated and in a desperate attempt to forget about my ex, I grab my laptop and settle in to get some work done. After a few deep breaths, my mind finally feels at ease and I pull up a web browser, scrolling through my phone while I wait for it to load...and wait...and wait...and wait until thirty minutes have gone by and I notice my computer won't connect to the internet.

"Dammit," the curse falls from my lips.

Using my limited knowledge of electronics I reboot the computer, try the wifi on the phone, and for good measure I kick the side of the desk before giving up. I'm massaging my sore toes when reception answers and assures me someone will be up soon to help. Anticipating a long wait, I dial the only logical person in this scenario and it rings five times before she finally answers.

"Hanna?" she asks hurriedly. "How are you, honey?"

"Well, the wifi here sucks," I tell her, "and the bartender cut me off last night so…"

"These are not real problems," my mom says annoyed. "You know, you don't have to stay at the hotel all the time. There are other things to do in Rosewood."

"That would require walking through the lobby," I inform her, "which has been taken over by the wedding party from hell."

"Oh right, the senator," my mom says with a sigh. "That was a real hard get, you know."

"The senator?" I ask confused. "What? No, I'm talking about Jordan."

"Jordan?" she asks. "Tall, dark and Australian? _Jordan_ Jordan? Your Jordan?"

"Yes, that Jordan," I snap at her. "The one who shattered my heart into a million pieces less than a year ago."

"Hanna, honey," she says softly. "I had no idea. He's marrying the senator's daughter?"

"I don't know," I say sarcastically, "is she a skinny, tall brunette with a winning smile."

"I'm sorry," my mom says kindly. "I'll call up some other hotels. See if they can get you a room. Or you can come here and stay with me. Get out of Rosewood for a bit?"

"I can't do that," I say. "He's already seen me. I can't just leave and let him win like that."

"Hanna," she pleads, "call me if you need anything. Don't let yourself get worked up over him. He's not worth it."

"I won't," I promise.

"Okay, love you," she says before hanging up.

I hang up just as there's a knock at the door. For a second I consider changing into something besides a hotel robe, but my energy level is at an all time low and I can't be bothered today, much less when just the sight of Caleb in the hallway exhausts me.

"You agai-"

I can't even get the words out before he scoops me in his arms and plants a sloppy kiss on my cheek, barely missing my mouth. Disgusted, I push him away as he closes the door behind him.

"Sorry about that," he says in a voice that doesn't seem the slightest bit apologetic. "I thought I saw Jordan in the hall getting ice."

"You're an ass," I tell him.

"I get that a lot," he teases. "Now, where's the problem."

I explain to him that my computer won't connect to the wifi even though it was working just perfectly the night before. He tries about a hundred different methods while I flip through the channels on TV before giving up.

"I think it's a wiring issue," he says, getting up. "I'll probably have to put in another router. The connection doesn't reach far enough to this corner of the hotel."

"How long's that gonna take?" I scoff.

"Probably a few hours," he replies. "How about you head downstairs and work from the lobby? I'll let the bartender know to comp your first round and then I'll grab you when it's done."

"Down there?" I ask. "With my ex and his fiance? And you think a couple free drinks are going to smooth that over?"

"A couple?" he clarifies. "I just said _one_ free drink...and working wifi."

"Oh well, in that case, throw in a croissant and I'm sold."

"Great!" he says, ignoring my sarcasm. Then he eyes the plush robe that engulfs me from head to toe. "Maybe put on something that isn't made of terry cloth?"

With a smirk, he lets himself out and I head back to my closet to find the most form fitting dress of the bunch. After a lengthy shower and a subtle attempt at blowing my hair out, I slip on the designer bandage dress over an impenetrable layer of spandex. If there's even the slightest chance I'll have to run into him, I am certainly going to look my best. So I grab my laptop and ignore the thirty-nine unread text messages on my phone before venturing down to the dimly lit lobby.

A bartender brings me a vodka soda, no doubt prompted by the sometimes-tolerable head of IT. Of course, he's nowhere to be found which means Jordan can saunter over at any time and throw his sham of a marriage in my face. My only line of defense is to hide behind my laptop, which isn't really an excuse since I have tons of work to catch up on after losing the morning.

The vodka soda goes down easy, followed by two others before I finally order a croissant to soak up the alcohol. By then, I'm starting to see double and I step away from the social media before my career goes down in a fiery flame. Conveniently enough, that's exactly the moment I look up and find Jordan staring right at me. I repress the urge to heave my liquid breakfast into the nearest trash can.

"So you're working here too?" he asks.

"Wifi's stronger down here," I say curtly. "Plus, I needed a change of scenery."

"Really?" he asks dubiously. "Your IT boyfriend can't get you better wifi?"

"He's working on it as we speak," I reply with a smug smile.

Before Jordan can start poking holes in my faux relationship with Caleb, a stunning brunette walks over and loops her arm around Jordan's waist. I can feel my eyes glaze over as I remember when it was my body pressed into his side, my arm wrapped around his back, my legs tangled in his on a lazy Sunday morning. And then I bounce back to reality when she extends a hand in greeting.

"Katherine Daly," she says sweetly.

"Soon to be Hobart," Jordan chimes in.

"We'll see," she teases, shooting me a wink, her hand still dangling in midair.

"I'm Hanna," I say quickly, taking her limp hand shake. I repress the urge to gag in her face.

Suddenly she makes the connection and her eyes scan me up and down, revealing the coils working in her mind. She knows.

"You're Hanna!"

"That was a long time ago," Jordan says quickly, too quickly.

It wasn't even a year ago. I shoot him a look that sends a shock of panic across his face but Katherine doesn't seem to notice. She smiles sweetly, like she always does, and is about to say something else when we're saved by the IT guy from hell.

"Hey babe," Caleb's voice is muffled as he places a tender kiss on my cheek. He's an asshole but also conveniently charming as hell. "You're room is all juiced up. Got upload and download speeds for days."

"I don't even know what that means," I say.

"Means you don't have to use a bar as an office anymore," he replies, snaking an arm around my shoulder. I can't help but notice that his fingers just barely graze the top of my breasts. The small thrill I get it a painful reminder that I haven't had sex in nearly a year. I swallow hard, burying any impure thoughts and turn my attention back to the happily engaged couple.

"Sorry, Katherine," I gesture to Caleb, "this is my boyfriend. Caleb Rivers."

Despite his obnoxious taunting, Caleb sells our romance enough that we get invited to dinner with the happy couple and their hundred closest friends and family.

"Oh no," I say quickly. "We don't want to intrude. Besides I think Caleb works late today."

"No I don't," he says, earning himself a subtle jab in the ribs.

"Great!" Katherine gushes. "I insist you come! It's right down here in the restaurant. We booked the whole place out. There's an open bar."

"We'll be there," Caleb says immediately.

"Okay," I say, letting out a deep breath. "Apparently we're in for the free drinks….and the company, obviously."

"Fantastic!" the bride to be claps her hands together and lets out an offensively shrill squeal. "I better get back to the wedding planner. But we'll see you tonight!"

"Yeah, see ya," I say softly.

I offer a gentle wave as they excuse themselves and wait until Jordan is down the hall before shrugging out of Caleb's reach.

"Now I need to find something to wear to this fucking dinner," I snap at him. "Way to go!"

"It's a free meal," Caleb replies. "Besides, we need to sell this thing if you really want him to think you've moved on."

"I hate that you're right," I say.

"I hate that you hate that," he says mocking me. "Hanna, if this relationship is going to work, we need to-"

"Shove it," I snap at him.

Caleb gets the message and smartly tries to annoy me just a little less for the rest of the evening. But that doesn't stop him from following me up to my room in a ploy to learn more about our fake relationship. I immediately ditch the sheath dress I borrowed from my mom's closet and swap it for sweatpants while Caleb drones on about our fabricated past. He has a fiercely elaborate story, much of which I don't even catch nor care to remember. Not that it matters because I plan on being so belligerently drunk I can't even string together a full sentence.

But I hold off just long enough to slip into another uncomfortably slimming dress and I accept Caleb's arm for support as I teeter toward the elevator in a borrowed pair of my mom's highest heels. We find our way amongst the crowd of Daly and Hobart guests until a kind waitress shows us to a couple of seats, undoubtedly at the reject table with distant cousins and other riff raff.

To his credit, Caleb plays the part of the perfect boyfriend, maybe even better than Jordan ever was. Actually, definitely better since he isn't going to string me along for seven years. In fact, this arrangement won't even last seven days. Which is why I don't cringe when Caleb drapes an arm along the back of my chair and I even scoot closer to him, just for show, of course. I'm on my third vodka soda when another couple finally approach our corner.

"Table eleven?" the girl asks.

"Looks like it," Caleb replies. He gestures for them to take the open seats next to us.

"I'm Yvonne," she says, turning to me. "And this is Mark."

"Hey," Mark says, offering a partial wave as we exchange pleasantries.

"So," Caleb leans across the table to make conversation, "how do you know the happy couple?"

"The political game," Yvonne explains. "My mom is gunning for Senator Daly's job which is why we're relegated to the reject table. What did you do to piss them off?"

"I'm the guy who runs the slide show at the rehearsal dinner," Caleb explains. "And Hanna here, used to date the groom."

"Ah, what drags you here?" Yvonne asks.

"This one," I point to Caleb. "We only came for the open bar."

"There's an open bar?" Mark asks.

I point him in the right direction and he comes back soon after with a full bottle of vodka hidden in his jacket. He pours us each a round before discreetly placing the bottle beneath the table.

"Bartender wasn't looking," he announces.

"You're a saint," I tell him.

"You couldn't have brought some scotch?" Caleb chimes in. I shoot him a look. "What?"

"Just be grateful and drink your vodka," I say.

He does so dutifully and with the help of the other spurned guests who join our table, we make a game of it, drinking every time we hear another wedding cliche or are treated to a glowing speech from the wedding party. By the time dessert is passed around we've polished off the whole bottle and my skin is warm and tingly.

"We should head out," Caleb whispers in my ear.

But our efforts are in vain as the guests mingle, reminiscing with old friends and schmoozing with politicians. From across the room I catch Jordan's eye for just a second. Maybe I'm imagining it but something like jealousy crosses his face when he sees me sidled up to Caleb, practically in his lap. I don't know why I do it, but I turn away from Jordan, feeling his eyes bore into me and place a hand on Caleb's nape, pulling him toward me for a kiss.

If he's surprised, he doesn't show it and I feel his hands frame my face as he deepens the kiss, sobering me up until I realize what we're doing. But I don't stop. If this is what it takes to show Jordan I've moved on, I'll do it all night. And I can't say Caleb's kisses are anything to complain about. In fact, my only complaint is when he gently pulls away.

"He's still staring," Caleb whispers in my ear. "Pretend I'm whispering sweet nothings."

"More like a whole lot of nothing," I tease.

"Do you want this to look convincing, or not?" Caleb replies, feigning affection as his hand skates down my side.

"You're good at this," I tell him.

"I get that a lot," he says smugly.

I want to knock him down a few pegs but I'm still drunk and glad we're pulling off this charade. Plus, I can't let Jordan think we aren't deliriously in love. So we keep it up, at least until Jordan gets dragged into a new conversation with his soon to be in-laws.

"Come on," I tell Caleb. "Time to get out of here."

He agrees, helping me wobble to my feet and lets me cling to him as we slip out of the party. And even though I let him off the hook for the night, he insists on walking me to my room. It's probably a good thing since I've indulged in a dangerous combination of alcohol and high heels.

"Let's take the service elevator," Caleb says when we see the mob gathered in the lobby.

"How far is it?" I groan. "I'd rather just wait."

"Want me to carry you?" he teases.

"Yup!" I say, slurring just a bit.

"Really?" Caleb asks.

"Yeah, really," I spit back. "You offered."

He rolls his eyes but obliges me anyway, sweeping me off my feet without protest. I loop my arms around his neck, giggling as we sprint past the guests waiting in the lobby. It's a trek to the service quarters on the opposite side of the hotel until Caleb finally sets me down to call the elevator, both of us trying to catch our breath from laughing so hard.

"What's taking so long," I groan after we've been waiting awhile.

"These are always slower," he replies. "But they won't stop on every floor like the guests elevators."

Right on time, the doors finally open, signaled by a _ding_ , and Caleb instinctively pulls me into his side as we step into the lift. My hands reach for the rail opposite the doors and I lean back to take the weight off my feet.

"Can I ask you something," I say softly, as we speed upward.

"Shoot," Caleb replies.

"Why are you doing this?" I blurt out. "Helping me?"

"I don't know," he says with a shrug. "Getting dumped sucks. I guess I recognized that look in your eyes when you saw Jordan."

Honestly, with all his confidence, I can't even imagine Caleb ever getting dumped. It's sobering, which is the opposite of what I want right now, so it's a relief when the doors finally open and places a hand at the small of my back to help me off the rickety elevator. We don't say anything as we walk back to my suite at the end of the hall, his words still echoing in my mind.

"Thanks for tonight," I say, digging the card key out of my clutch.

"My pleasure," Caleb replies.

When he leans down to kiss me I'm fully expecting a steamy liplock like the one we shared at dinner but instead his lips just barely graze my cheek with a chaste kiss.

"Good night, princess," he says softly, his words intoxicating me as much as the drinks at dinner. My mind is still in a drunken fog and the close proximity to a man who isn't Jordan clouds my judgment.

"Do you want to come in for a drink?" I ask.

"I think you've had plenty to drink tonight," Caleb replies. "I better not."

I try to hide my shock as I wish him good night. He waits until I put my key in and unlock the door, but doesn't make a move to step inside behind me. It's mortifying and I'm so relieved when I finally close the door to wallow in my own shame. I can't believe I basically threw myself at him and he didn't even flinch. Just replaying it back in my head makes me feel sick.

Trying to think of literally anything else, I peel off my clothes and the many layers of spandex before crawling under the covers in a desperate attempt to forget my many transgressions tonight. But it's no use, as soon as I close my eyes all I think about is Caleb. His strong arms holding me up as I wobble in my heels, those deep mysterious eyes, but mostly the feel of his lips on mine and the taste of his mouth. Then the humiliation sets in when I remember how effortlessly he shot me down. And the only thing that puts me out of my misery is a drunken sleep.

* * *

 _AN: A huge thank you to zip for giving this a read and letting me ruin your anniversary :P_

 _Thanks for reading! I hope you're enjoying the continuation of Haleb Week's stories. Comments, questions, requests? Drop me a line here or find me on twitter/tumblr under halebfic :)_


	3. Wednesday

**WEDNESDAY**

Dread comes flooding back to me when I wake up in the morning. The memory of last night's rejection burns like fire at the back of my throat, accompanied of course by the fifth of vodka I drank. Obviously it was a mistake to invite him in. There's no way I feel something for him, at least that's what I tell myself as I repress the humiliation.

Luckily the internet works in my room again, much better than before even, so I plop down at the desk and catch up on all the emails that have been piling up in my inbox. With fashion week fast approaching I know I'll soon be working through the night trying to keep up with all the different time zones but for now, I can take it easy. Especially after all the prep work I put in to ignore how much my heart hurt when Jordan broke up with me.

Seeing him last night, with his arms around someone else, happily surrounded by everyone he loves, it was a wake up call. And even though it was a shock to find him here at the Radley, I think it was definitely the jump start I needed to move on. Having Caleb on my arm doesn't hurt either, but it sure would be a lot easier to stomach if we weren't faking it. For the first time I realize I'm open to meeting someone new and putting my life with Jordan behind me. I resolve to finally take up Emily's offer and let her set me up on a dating app, at least as soon as I get out of this bleak town with zero prospects.

After putting off work long enough to throw myself a pity party, I dive right in, making calls and returning emails for hours until my stomach growls from hunger. I consider room service but I've already blown through that menu ten times over and I could really use something that isn't cooked in the basement of a converted asylum.

I finish off a few emails and double check my schedule for the rest of the week before jumping in the shower. After last night's debauchery my hair is matted, tangled and in desperate need of a wash. So I let the water roll down my spine and down the drain, wishing it would take my embarrassing memories and bad decisions with it.

When I'm finally presentable, I grab my purse and silently pray I won't run into Caleb as I dart through the lobby. Luckily he's nowhere in sight when I finally step out of the elevator but apparently he's the least of my problems. As soon as the doors close behind me, Katherine's eyes lock on mine and she waves me down enthusiastically.

"Hanna!" she gushes, a shrill voice that reverberates through the lobby. "Hanna, come sit with us!"

I've been caught and I feel the color draining from my face as I inch toward Katherine. She's seated on a lounge sofa in the lobby, surrounded by half a dozen skinny girls wearing pastel blouses and chinos. It looks suspiciously like they coordinated their outfits and I look gravely out of place in a mossy green sweater and torn jeans.

"Hey," I say, dragging out the greeting.

"Hanna, you're from Rosewood, right?" Katherine says excitedly. "Do you know a place where we can do some shopping? Maybe grab some drinks after?"

I know that all the universal laws of dating and breakups tell me I should loathe Katherine and that even an inkling of friendship between us will always be tainted by the fact that I've fucked her husband. But for the life of me, I like the girl. And if we had met under any other circumstances, we might be friends who spend a Sunday morning together hammering bottomless mimosas. She's speaking my language.

"There's a great little boutique in town," I tell her. "It's a short walk and the Apple Rose Grill is close by. They have the best lavender martini!"

"I knew you were the right person to ask," Katherine replies. "Why don't you come with us?"

"I've got to finish work," I lie, "but thanks for the invite."

"Really?" Katherine pleads. "You sure you can't join us for a bit? You were heading out anyway."

She's got me there. I struggle to find a lame excuse to get out of spending an afternoon with the woman who should be my mortal enemy but come up blank. Besides, shopping wouldn't be the worst idea.

"I guess I can do it tomorrow," I respond in defeat.

"Great!" Katherine says cheerfully. "Lead the way."

And somehow I get roped into leading a tour of bridesmaids through Rosewood. We hit up my favorite boutique where Katherine talks me into a crocheted shift dress that costs almost an entire paycheck but it does look amazing and the matching shoes were on sale so I really couldn't pass up the deal. Plus, it turns out that Katherine is a really nice person and a very fun shopper as are all of her friends so I don't even have to talk myself into getting drinks with them after.

The eight of us end up gathered on the patio of the Apple Rose Grill, sipping colorful cocktails. I make small chat with Katherine and her sisters, I'm still not clear if they are actually related or some sort of sorority, and we all avoid the subject of my prior relationship with Jordan. Besides that, everything else is on the table. I learn more than I ever wanted to know about Katherine and the gaggle of girls that constantly surround her. And I'm sure I spilled my own secrets after that fifth paloma.

It's late when we finally make our way back to the hotel, stumbling through the darkness as laughter fills the air. Katherine loops her arm through mine when we approach the lobby and thanks me at a really pitchy decibel.

"It was a nice distraction from work," I assure her. "Thanks for inviting me."

She's slurring something else in my ear when I catch sight of Caleb in my peripheral vision. He's changed out of the Radley-issued polo shirt and into a dark gray henley which means he's probably off the clock. Katherine sees him too and not-so-subtly shoots me a wink before shoving me in his direction. She's kind of fun after a pitcher of margaritas.

"What have you ladies been doing?" Caleb says cheerfully.

His smile just melts me. I forget all my reservations about how we ended the night before. My thoughts are cloudy from the booze and all I can focus on is how cute he looks in a henley with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. I don't even know what comes over me when I loop my arms around his neck, tangling my fingers in the hair at his nape. Somehow time seems to simultaneously speed up and slow down as Caleb's lips meet mine in a hot, passionate embrace. I can't still feel his warm breath against my neck when he pulls away slowly.

"You taste like tequila," he says, dragging out the last syllables.

"Fuck yeah I do," I snap back with a wink.

Caleb laughs and a small part of me takes pride in bringing him joy, even if it's at my expense. But then the laughter stops and he grins brightly, brushing a strand of her from my face. Then he says the sexiest words I've ever heard.

"I like tequila."

And we're kissing again. His hand slides down my back, fingers brushing along the small sliver of skin that peeks out beneath my shirt. I'm still drunk and wobbly, letting myself relax in his arms. Caleb tightens his grip around my waist, pressing me flush against him. I almost forget this is all for show until he pulls away slowly, resting his forehead against mine for a beat.

"We have an audience," he says, silently gesturing toward Katherine and her bridesmaids gathered in the corner. "I should get you upstairs."

My heart leaps at the thought, mind racing with expectations that can never be realized, not after the way Caleb left last night. But still I let him slide an arm around my waist, hoisting me into his side to offset my flimsy balance. We don't talk much on the way upstairs, not that I can string together a coherent sentence with the combination of tequila and yearning swirling in my head.

Luckily Caleb takes the lead, steering me into the nearest elevator and letting me rest my head against his chest as the ancient lift climbs to the top floor. A sudden and unnecessary jolt shakes us both until the car settles into place followed by the doors sliding open.

"You okay?" Caleb asks.

I nod silently in response. That's when I realize he's pulled me even closer to him. My heart still races as we walk down the hall to my suite. Caleb doesn't let me go until we reach the door, and even then his hand lingers on my waist before his fingers finally trail off, leaving me inexplicably cold and feeling exposed.

"Thanks for playing pretend down there," I tell him. "Katherine's friends can be kind of...zealous."

"Where'd you learn that word?" he teases. "SAT prep?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact," I reply. "And that's the last time I ever thank you for anything."

"I should be the one thanking you," he replies. "It's been fun...pretending. This little town doesn't have a lot of entertainment."

"Well, I'm glad...that I…can be of service," I finally blurt out. "So no big plans tonight?"

He laughs, lingering in the doorway as a hand reaches up to scratch the back of his neck. Releasing a heavy sigh he finally answers.

"If by big plans you mean, frozen pizza and watching _Goonies_ for the thousandth time...then yes I _do_ have big plans."

"You know," I say, "I'm about to order some room service if you want to stay...that is, if you don't have your heart set on frozen pizza."

"I could be convinced," he says, tilting his head up mischievously. "What else you got?"

I roll my eyes and lean back against the door, crossing my arms over my chest.

"It's no _Goonies_ , but I've got that minion movie on pay-per-view," I reply.

"The minion movie?" he says with a laugh. "Hanna, I don't know if you know this, but I _love_ that movie!"

"Shut up!" I snap at him. "I can still rescind the invitation."

"No!" He makes a show of pleading forgiveness. "You can't! Nothing would give me greater pleasure than spending the evening with you and the greatest movie of _all time_!"

"I hate you!"

Caleb laughs and scoops me into a hug, pleading forgiveness as I wriggle out of his grasp. He finally manages to wrestle the card key out of my back pocket and breaks himself into my room shouting triumphantly about minions as he barges right past me. Snatching the room service menu from the side table, he kicks his shoes off before plopping down on the bed.

"Can you call down and order me a steak?" he says it with a grin that makes my stomach churn.

"Fine, but I get a bite," I reply.

"Thanks babe," he says before returning his attention to the television.

I can't help but let my mind wander when I hear that word. He's never called me _babe_ before and it just rolls off his tongue effortlessly. I probably analyze every possible reason he could have called me babe before the front desk finally answers and transfers me to room service.

After I call it in, I venture toward the bed, stretching out on the perfectly folded linens. A movie, not minion related, plays on the television but I don't pay it much attention. Mostly, I try to catch glimpses of Caleb in my peripheral vision, slowly inching my hand toward his.

We sit there for what feels like an eternity. Occasionally he laughs, a full-bellied laugh that echoes through the room. His laughter makes me laugh too. The hotel's air conditioning is on full blast as usual even though I've repeatedly shut it off. After a long lull, I shiver in response, trying to burrow deeper into the comforter.

"You cold?" Caleb asks, turning to face me. His dark, intriguing eyes suck me in and I barely muster a nod. He smiles, stretching an arm around my back to offer some warmth. "Come here."

He pulls me into his side, letting me rest my head on his chest. I stretch an arm across his torso, my fingers idly grazing the inside of his arm, listening to the way his breath hitches every time I circle the pulse point on his forearm. After a particularly deep exhale he turns his face toward me and I swear in that moment….

"Room service!"

The knock at the door startles me and I had nearly forgotten we ordered food. I jolt up, sliding off the bed and sprinting across the room to open the door. The whole time, rolling my eyes because our dinner interrupted the only honest moment I've had in months. Trying to hide my displeasure, I mutter something that can be interpreted as gratitude and hand the bell hop a fiver before shutting the door firmly.

"Hungry?" I ask Caleb.

He nods and gets up from the bed, taking the seat next to me on the sofa as we gather around a feast of fried food. His steak is still sizzling when he takes off the cloche and my own mouth waters at the sight of it. True to his word, I get the first bite, savoring the buttery goodness. That's the moment I realize how drunk I still am and begin scarfing down fries and mozzarella sticks. I'll take anything to distract me from the inexplicable feelings of lust I have for the guy sitting next to me.

"You okay?" Caleb asks, after a long while.

"Fine," I lie. "Why?"

"You're eating those fries three at a time," he says with a smirk.

"I'm just hungry," I say quickly. "Day drinking is no joke."

Caleb laughs. I'm left wondering if he finds me endearing or pitiful. I convince myself it's the former, even though it's really a toss up. I try to push those misgivings out of my mind as we finish eating, sliding the plates out of the way. I tuck my legs up to my chest as Caleb stretches out on the sofa. He points toward the leather-bound notebook on the coffee table.

"What's that?" he asks.

"Oh, it's just my-"

Before I can answer he snatches it out of my reach and starts skimming the pages, his hands running along the textured fabric swatches taped to each page. My heart lodges in my throat. I've never shown anyone my sketches. When my career started veering more administrative than creative I suddenly found inspiration but lost a bit of hope. Anxiety builds in the pit of my stomach as Caleb flips through my most personal possession and I lunge for him.

"Don't even!" he cackles, jumping up and running around the room, one hand in the air to keep the book out of my reach.

I sprint around the room to chase him down but he's always just out of my reach. We're both running out of steam when I step onto the sofa's armrest, taking the opportunity to jump on his back. Using my newfound leverage I try to wrestle the book from his grasp but Caleb is stronger and manages to gently drop me on the bed. He's about to run again but my legs instinctively lock around his waist and I pull him close to me, reaching for the book that's just a hair too far.

"Give it!" I squeal.

Still Caleb won't budge, dangling it just inches from my fingertips. But using the last bit of strength I propel myself up, catching him off guard. I manage to knock the book out of his hands, sending it flying across the room. My legs still hold him in place so he can't make a run for it and I finally lay back against the plush linens, breathless and panting. Caleb collapses onto the bed in defeat, wedging me in between his elbows. Our eyes lock for a second and then, in a moment that I can't explain as anything other than lust, he's kissing me. I don't even know what comes over me but I kiss him back, melting with every brush of his lips against mine.

"Han-na," he says finally, his husky voice cracks and shifts uncomfortably. That's when I realize he is rock hard. "We should stop."

"We don't have to," I whisper, bucking my hips against him.

And maybe it's because I'm desperate for anyone to touch me again or maybe because deep down I've had feelings for Caleb ever since he surprised me with that kiss in the lobby. Not romantic feelings, of course, something just felt unfinished after that. So I kiss him again.

"You're sure?" Caleb asks as his lips draw away from mine again. "If we do this, it's not pretend anymore."

"It never really was," I reply.

He musters a smile and leans down to kiss me again, this time it's not soft and slow and simmering. We both lose our inhibitions and he tosses his shirt aside before working on mine. Our clothes litter the ground in seconds until we're both completely bare, and I silently curse myself for not keeping up with my wax appointments. But Caleb doesn't seem to care.

His lips are on mine, and then almost immediately they're not, as he kisses his way down my neck to my breasts. He bathes the sensitive skin with his hot, warm tongue, sucking and swirling as I mewl in response. My fingers grip the short hairs at his nape, tugging tighter every time he hits a pulse point which sends me reeling with delight.

"Like that?" he asks with a smirk.

"Keep going," I murmur.

He laughs, the vibration of his voice causing my skin to tingle in response. I squirm beneath him as a shiver runs down my spine but manage to croak out a command not to stop when Caleb shows concern. Always obedient, he continues, ghosting his free hand over my exposed breast, barely grazing my supple skin until every nerve stands on end, desperate to feel more of him.

My own hands finally untangle themselves from his hair and slide down, feeling every ripple of his muscular back. He's still lavishing me with pleasure when I wrap around and take him in my hand. Based on the groan muffled against my chest, he wasn't expecting that. With every flick of my wrist he doubles over before finally whispering against my neck.

"Han, wait," he says, pushing himself off.

I'm confused for a moment, feeling shamefully naked as he runs around the room. But he puts my panic at ease when I see the foil packet he snags from the pocket of his jeans. Turning his back to sheath himself, I allow myself to take in the full sight of him for the first time. Major upgrade from Jordan. I'm practically drooling when he catches me.

"I can get that tattoo removed, you know."

A red hot blush crosses my cheek but I don't care. I want him just the way he is. Well, as long as he's on top of me. And Caleb seems to share that feeling. He doesn't waste any time in returning to bed.

"You sure?" he asks one last time. I nod. I've never been more sure of anything in my life.

* * *

 _AN: Not beta read because I was just too excited to post this one so please forgive any errors. Special shout out to Haleb's minions for nudging me to keep going with this one. Thanks for reading! I hope you like it :)_


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